Writing Mentors

Recently, I had lunch with an old writing buddy I hadn't seen in a long, long time (Michael).  It was invigorating to touch base with him and find out where his writing life had led him.  In truth, his writing life had literally stopped--an ending of the Muse, he said.  He no longer heard her calling his name and no longer felt compelled to write stories.

At first, I was saddened because in my case the Muses hadn't stopped calling my name. I write every single day, because, as my BFF Sheila always says, I can't not write.  But then I realized that some writers hold the title of being mentors to others. I suddenly remembered that during my years in the writing workshop with Michael, he always made great suggestions about what I wrote.  And listening to his own pieces of writing, I became a better writer.  Perhaps, that's why he stayed in my life such a short span of years. He had something to give, and I had something to receive. And when we each got what we needed, our lives drifted apart.

During our lunch, I said as much to him and he agreed totally with me, except that he said thanks to Sheila and me, his life had matured--by writing his "Will" stories and hearing our critiques.  He had matured as a person and then, after the demise of the workshop, he had found a new artistic calling, namely, woodworking. As I listened to how passionate he is over his ability to shape wood into something rare and beautiful, I realized once more that people go in an out of our lives for all different reasons. That we are all between two worlds.  Astral-Human, Teacher-Student, Writing-Woodworking. It doesn't matter what the calling is; the only thing that matters is we answer the call.

When lunch was over, we wished each other the best that life has to offer.  We also agreed that neither of had any idea why we had found each other again after such a long span of silence. I think it's because both of us needed a way for our souls to gauge how far we had come in fulfilling our dreams. And now that we see how far we've traveled, and are grateful, it's time for us to keep moving forward. I think that brief two hour lunch proved that trying to live in the past serves no purpose. We must always keep moving forward.  Even if we have to leave a treasured friend behind.